


research and disaster

by blueh



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Gen, Identity Reveal, Interns & Internships, Interns Being Confused On The Very Principal That Is Peter Parker, Interns Thinking That Mr. Stark Has A Kid, POV Outsider, Peter Parker Being Resident Cryptid, Peter and Tony Centric, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, is tony stark a secret dad? tune in for more intern debates, there are original characters but its outsider POV so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:20:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22827064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueh/pseuds/blueh
Summary: There should have been nothing remarkable about two people in a busy cafeteria, but Becket takes in the familiar sight of curly hair, brown eyes, and a t-shirt with a science pun on it talking animatedly alongsideActual Anthony Edward Starkand promptly drops his lunch.He gapes for a solid second, seeing but not believing. It definitely doesn’t look like Mr. Stark is forcing the kid to leave, or firing him, or escorting him to security given the relaxed smiles on both of their faces. If anything, Becket thinks Mr. Stark looks rather proud.“So, uh, Mr. Stark definitely knows Roomba-Kid,” Becket says and discreetly tilts his head in the direction of the pair.“Oh my god,” Jess says. She almost sounds gleeful. “Oh my god, he’s not just some random kid. He’sMr. Stark’skid.”or: the interns at Stark Industries have some questions about Peter Parker. The answers aren’t quite what they expect.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 245
Kudos: 5566
Collections: Absolute Faves, Avidreaders Spiderman completed faves, Favourite Fanfictions, Finished111, Identity Reveal x Field Trip, Irondad and Spiderson 🕷, Lost and Found Irondad Fics, Mixed_Fics, Outsider & Alternative POVs, Outstanding Outsider POVs, Peter Parker Stories, Peter Parker's Tales, Really good Irondad and Spiderson fanfics, ellie marvel fics - read, escapism (to forget that the world is a burning hellscape), god tier spider-man fics, marvel fics that are marvelous, mcu stories that slap





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> the title of this fic was “R&D” in my docs which stands for research and development but i was like…..what if…i made a pun instead…so here is research and disaster 
> 
> anyways this is incredibly self indulgent outsider pov but also this is ao3 and no one can stop me

Becket Singers isn’t necessarily a _new_ intern to Stark Industries Research and Development department, but he hasn’t been here as long as the singing roomba has.

Becket hasn’t worked in a lot of companies. He’s only a junior at MIT with a background in chemistry. He finished his honors thesis on organometallic compounds by sophomore year and wanted something a little more challenging for the summer. He’s got grad school in his future—of course, because in this day and age it’s very hard to get a decent paying job in STEM without getting some sort of graduate degree—and while his research already looks fantastic on his resume, there’s nothing quite as fantastic as _Stark Industries Intern_ (even if only for a summer semester).

So, anyways, Becket hasn’t worked at a lot of companies, but even he thinks the roomba that follows his boss and plays _Mmm Whatcha Say_ full volume every time Mr. Stark drops something on the ground is more than a little _weird._ He knows it’s _The Roomba_ and not just _a_ roomba by the printed out stock photo of Mr. Stark’s face that is haphazardly taped to the top.

(He hadn’t believed it at first, when the other interns told him. He thought it was some sort of hazing ritual to get the new guy to believe whatever dumb bullshit they make up on the spot. Then he saw it with his own eyes and he hasn’t been the same person since.)

Becket had asked about it exactly once. 

His lab supervisor told him a tale, in a haunting tone, about how the roomba just showed up one day, started following Mr. Stark around and not a single person—in all of the brilliance that is the SI staff—could get rid of it. Apparently, once, they’d tried throwing it down the garbage shoot, never to be seen again, only for a new and better roomba to show up that very next day. If the roomba breaks, it’s fixed by the next morning. If someone destroys it, it comes back even more powerful.

No one knows who created it and repairs it and, unfortunately, no one knows _why_.

It’s not the only thing he wonders about. Becket doesn’t know a lot about Tony Stark, but he always wonders why, exactly, a man like Mr. Stark allows a roomba that plays _Mmm Whatcha Say_ whenever he drops something to continue to follow him around a very prestigious building full of business people and researchers from around the world. Becket even swears he’s seen Mr. Stark holding open a door for it, once. 

(The other interns call Mr. Stark _eccentric_. Becket is convinced that he, like everyone else, simply can’t kill the roomba because it’s too powerful for even a man like Mr. Stark.) 

Becket won’t ever get the chance to ask, though—perks of being a lowly R&D intern for the Inorganics lab is the fact that he’s seen Mr. Stark exactly five times in his two months of being here and most of them were during casual 2am coffee runs on third floor. A part of him is still convinced that he experienced a mass hallucination based solely on lack of sleep and several hours spent working on stoichiometry.

Logically, he knows the mystery of the singing roomba is going to remain a mystery. It’s not like he has anyone to ask—no one had ever seen the roomba repair guy and lived to tell the tale. 

Perhaps that’s the reason why he’s so surprised when walking into the Inorganics lab, bright and early at exactly six forty five AM, only to see a child crouched in the corner of the room with several empty drink cans, various screwdrivers and a roomba at his feet.

To top off his morning, Becket _recognizes_ the stock photo of his boss taped to the top. This is no mere roomba.

The kid, as if sensing him walk in, jerks his head up and meets his eyes. Becket tries to keep his voice even and says slowly, “…What are you doing with that roomba?”

The kid freezes, screw driver held in suspension looking akin to a deer in the headlights. “I’m, uh, I’m fixing it?”

The roomba makes a sad beeping noise. The kid absentmindedly runs his fingers over the sleek, black side as if it were habit.

“ _Why_ are you fixing it?”

“So it works?”

It’s then that Becket comes to a terrifying realization that could rock the very foundation of the SI intern social ladder.

“You’re the Roomba-Man,” Becket breathes and tries to keep the horrified awe out of his voice. Then, seeing as the kid goes up maybe to his chin, he corrects, “Roomba-Kid.”

The kid puffs up like a balloon and says, like he has a lot of practice, “I’m a _man_.”

“Oh, god,” Becket says and tries not to think about the fact that he’s solved the biggest mystery in the history of SI within just two short months of working here.

“Sorry about crashing in your lab but Inorganics had the stuff I needed so,” the kid scratches the back of his head awkwardly then gathers his remains—roomba, screwdrivers, trash and all—before standing up and heading out. He pauses at the door, turns around and says, “Thanks for letting me sit here for a sec and y’know, not screaming for security.”

Becket never let him do anything but Becket does not say this.

Then Roomba-Kid is gone, lost in the crowd of people reporting early for work.

Becket doesn’t try to stop him. Roomba-Kid already holds so much power in his hands so Becket thinks no one can really blame him for being more than a little terrified in his presence. He just holds his lab keys, stares at the same spot and tries to convince himself that this isn’t all just a weird, coffee-induced dream.

* * *

As it turns out, Becket isn’t the only one to notice something strange this morning. It just isn’t until his mandated lunch break that he finds out.

“Anyone else here seen the kid who ransacked Inorganics last night?” Jess says and drops her food on the table before slouching in her seat.

Jess, like Becket, is one of the four interns that work in the Inorganics lab. She’s a chemistry major specializing in geochemistry. She’s also senior—a year older than him—who’s been interning here since every summer since her sophomore year. Becket isn’t quite sure how she keeps getting her internship renewed but he hopes, with careful detection work and friendship bribes, that she will (eventually) tell him her secrets.

The other two people at the table are John (sophomore, biochem major and local dumbass) and Ryan (junior, chem major working with redox stability and redox reactions). Together, the four of them make up the only interns across the board that were accepted into the undergrad Inorganics lab internship.

“Someone took stuff from the lab?” Ryan asks.

“A lot of my tools were missing this morning,” Jess says. “I didn’t really think much of it until I saw who did it and he wouldn’t give them back. Said Mr. Stark needed them which is _bullshit_ because Mr. Stark has his own personal lab full of things I’ve only seen in my wet dreams. I’m gonna go inform the head after lunch.”

There’s a sinking feeling in Becket’s stomach because this morning with Roomba-Kid could not be a coincidence. “What did he look like?”

“About yay-high, brown hair, brown eyes, looks like trouble. Probably a middle schooler by vibe alone.”

“You saw the Roomba-Kid,” Becket informs her.

“The Roomba-Kid,” John repeats, slowly.

Becket nods. “The roomba repair guy.”

“Alright, back up. Wait a sec. We’re talking about _the_ roomba, right? Like, the singing one? The one with Mr. Stark’s face taped to the top?” At everyone’s nods, Ryan continues, “There’s a _roomba repair guy_?”

“…Ryan, who do you think keeps replacing the roomba after we get rid of it?” Jess asks.

Ryan purses his lips. “I thought it was just, like, Mr. Stark’s _thing_.”

“Like,” John says and is forced to pause. Becket begs every god he knows for Mr. Stark to not be listening in to random intern conversations. “Like a fetish?”

“I mean, you said it,” Ryan says. “Not me.”

Jess holds her head in her hands. “Oh my god, the roomba that plays _Mmm Whatcha Say_ is not Mr. Stark’s fetish.”

“Listen, I’m not here to judge kinks—”

“Please shut up,” Jess says. “Ryan, I’m actually begging you to shut your mouth. John, don’t encourage him.”

John shrugs then snaps to get their attention. “Anyways, back to the actual important conversation that we were just having—roomba repair man is a _kid_?”

“He’s like twelve years old,” Jess confirms despite the blaringly obvious fact that the kid is definitely much older than twelve. “Maybe a high-schooler. I didn’t exactly ask.”

“Holy shit,” John says.

“It’s whatever,” Jess says. “As long as Roomba-Kid stops stealing my stuff and doesn’t cause problems, I don’t see a reason to worry about him.”

( _They should have worried about him,_ Becket thinks much, much later. _By god, they should’ve worried_.)

* * *

There are three things Becket has learned after working under one Tony Stark.

The first, and most important, rule is that unless you hold a lottery ticket in your very hands, you do not— _under any circumstances_ —give Mr. Stark something to hold. Especially if it’s papers. Double especially if it’s papers that are incredibly important and pertain to the future of the company.

Mr. Stark has a way of sniffing those out and avoiding them the most.

The second, and still very important, rule is that interns are _not allowed_ anywhere near Mr. Stark’s personal lab. This is due to the incident in ’12. Becket, unfortunately, does not know what happened during this incident and no one there is currently alive to tell it.

The third rule is if one is to even catch a _glimpse_ of Ms. Pepper Potts in any way, shape or form they are not to bother her with _anything_ unless she specifically asks them first. Legend says this rule was created by Mr. Stark himself after a bunch of interns kept harassing her. Becket, personally, thinks that rule is absolute bullshit because Ms. Potts could end a man’s life without a second of hesitation and doesn’t need something as arbitrary as a _rule_ to protect her.

There are, of course, minor rules like _don’t use dangerous chemistry equipment alone_ , _always double check stoichiometry calculations_ , and _don’t take stuff from the cabinets without informing a lab head first_.

As long as he follows these rules, Becket knows everything will work out. It’s why rules are made in the first place—to foster peace and create a stable and helpful environment for project development. It’s why, again, he finds himself surprised to see Roomba-Kid arms deep in the chemical cabinet in the Inorganics lab.

“What are you doing?” Becket asks, not for the first time.

Roomba-Kid doesn’t look nearly as surprised this time around, “Oh! Hi. Your name is Becket, right? Ms. Potts was talking about you and the other interns a while back.”

Becket is going to ignore the implication that Roomba-Kid is on speaking terms with Ms. Potts. He just can’t wrap his head around the very idea at this point in his very confusing, very short life.

“That’s me,” Becket confirms. Then, “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Oh, right! Mr. Stark locked me out of the lab yesterday for reasons that were _not_ my fault so I’m going to cover Mr. Stark’s lab entirely with sticky notes,” Roomba-Kid says, dead serious. “I want them to be sticky enough that he can’t just peel them off and I’m gonna call them unstickable sticky notes.”

Becket thinks about questioning it, but stops. The idea of in itself not especially weird—if Roomba-Kid, for whatever reason, has the clearance to be in the lab without FRIDAY tattling on him, then he obviously has permission from _someone_. Unstickable sticky notes could easily be a cover for a classified project and, well, Becket’s never been one to push.

“Alright, have fun with that,” he says. “Jess says to bring back her tools because you keep losing them and she needs those for her project.”

“Jess is one of the interns in this lab, right?” Roomba-Kid asks and shuts the cabinet. He’s holding a bucket of chemicals with one hand and a stolen hand-crank centrifuge in the other. “Tell her I’m sorry. Mr. Stark and I needed it ‘cause he snapped his on the Mark 78 and I couldn’t find it in the organics lab. He’ll get her a new one. Or get himself a new one. I don’t really know.”

Becket eyes the bucket of chemicals and wonders if this is a good idea. “Right.”

“Anyways, nice meeting you!” Roomba-Kid says and wanders out of the lab and out of sight. Just like last time, when Becket does go to check, Roomba-Kid is gone with not a single thing to trace him by.

It occurs to him later that he never got Roomba-Kid’s name. Then he shrugs because it’s the _Roomba-Kid_. An eternal mystery of in itself and, well, Becket is more than happy to be as far away from that mystery as possible.

It’s not until the next day when he figures out that he’s completely and utterly _fucked_.

He’s in his lab when it happens, googles and gloves on because he’s not an _animal._ Unfortunately, he never gets to finish his project because his day starts and ends with him accidently overhearing two employees from the engineering sector that were milling about in the inorganics lab for the day.

“Didn’t you hear? Someone put sticky notes all in Mr. Stark’s lab so now he’s making us clean them off—”

“ _Sticky notes_? In Mr. Stark’s personal lab?”

“Crazy, right? I hear they’re hard to get off. Something about the chemical composition allows them to completely adhere to flat surfaces. Everyone’s been trying all morning to clean them up.”

The voices gradually fade to the background. Becket stares at his hands.

 _Oh_ , Becket thinks. _Oh, shit_.

* * *

There are four things Becket has learned after working under one Tony Stark.

The fourth rule is if the Roomba-Kid says he’s going to do something, you— _under every circumstance_ —must do everything in your power to stop him. Otherwise, overtime is spent unsticking unstickable sticky notes from a billionaire’s personal lab, simultaneously wondering and regretting which life choices led you to this exact, cursed moment in time.

* * *

It’s been exactly three weeks since the sticky note incident. Becket has look hell in the eyes and hell looks like a rainbow of tiny square papers that stick to just about everything and do not come off without extreme amounts of force (and some fire).

It’s alright, though, because after a stunt like that, he knows he won’t be seeing Roomba-Kid around again. Mr. Stark would never allow anyone like that to stay, no matter what circumstances came to them being here in the first place.

It’s not the first time he’s been proven wrong by Roomba-Kid. Still, you can only imagine his surprise when he walks into Inorganics only to see Roomba-Kid hard at work once again.

(No one blames him for turning around and walking right back out.)

By this point, Roomba-Kid is more than an urban myth. He’s a tiny demon running around with the power of god at his fingertips. Becket isn’t sure how this kid is still in the R&D department and he’s not completely sure he even wants to find out.

Although, it’s to the point that Roomba-Kid is around enough that most everyone has at least glimpsed his face by now. Not many of them have held a conversation which is evident by the lack of a formal name other than _Roomba-Kid_ , but, well, at least they can prove Roomba-Kid is real and not just a story cooked up by the chemist employees to scare new interns into behaving.

Lunch rolls around and with it comes the bountiful prospect of gossip from the Inorganics interns.

“I think Roomba-Kid is a kind soul but my god he’s a misguided little shit that has entirely too much power for his tiny middle schooler hands,” Jess says as she slides into the table seat.

“He’s high school age at least,” Becket says.

“He’s a sophomore,” Ryan drums his fingers on the table, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. When he notices their confused stares, he rolls his eyes. “What? I actually talk to him sometimes. He’s weirdly magnetic.”

“He helped me carry stuff to the lab,” Jess tells him. “Helped John find some of the chemicals from upstairs and then he turned around and stole another centrifuge from the cabinet. He’s a sweet kid, but, seriously, I don’t understand him at all.”

“He doesn’t have a badge either. I saw him attempting to bribe the security guard to let him through the doors,” John says.

Becket holds his face in his hands and offers a muffled, “How does he even exist?”

“Does anyone know like, why, this kid just exists in Stark Industries and no one knows how to get rid of him or..?”

“He takes after the very singing roomba he created."

Jess beckons them closer, like out of some crime TV show, and Becket knows he doesn’t get paid enough to deal with this when she says, “I once asked Mr. Stark if he knew about Roomba-Kid and he said, get this, _who?_ So, y’know, I have a theory—”

“Oh, god,” Ryan says.

“—I have a theory,” Jess repeats, more forceful. “I think that Roomba-Kid is actually the ghost of a kid who once came on a tour here and died in this very facility. So now he haunts the halls as a form of revenge.”

“I think that your theory sucks and you should be ashamed of yourself,” John says, dryly.

Jess whacks him on the arm and ignores his laughter. “Don’t be fucking rude, John.”

“I have to agree with John,” Becket says. He ignores the booing. “Ghosts can’t fix roombas or stick unstickable sticky notes to Mr. Stark’s personal lab.”

Ryan tries and fails to hide his snickers when he says, “If we gave a tip to the Buzzfeed Unsolved crew do y’think they’d come out here an investigate?”

“He’s not a ghost,” John says

“Demon, maybe?”

“Oh my god, he’s literally just some random kid.”

“But that doesn’t make sense! He fixes the singing roomba and he takes stuff from the labs and no one can stop him and he stuck unstick able sticky notes to Mr. Stark’s _private lab_ and is _still allowed in the building_!”

It’s between the bickering that Becket catches sight of a pair of people out of the corner of his eyes. There should have been nothing remarkable about two people in a busy cafeteria, but Becket takes in the familiar sight of curly hair, brown eyes and a t-shirt with a science pun on it talking animatedly alongside _Actual Anthony Edward Stark_ and promptly drops his lunch.

He gapes for a solid second, seeing but not believing. It definitely doesn’t look like Mr. Stark is forcing the kid to leave given the smiles on both of their faces. If anything, Becket thinks he looks rather proud.

“So, uh, Mr. Stark definitely knows Roomba-Kid,” Becket says and discreetly tilts his head in the direction of that level of bullshit.

The table goes silent.

“Oh my god,” Jess says. She almost sounds gleeful. “Oh my god, he’s not just some random kid. He’s _Mr. Stark’s_ kid.”

* * *

From there, Becket’s life only gets weirder.

“Have you seen Mr. Stark or Peter around here?” Actual Ms. Pepper Potts asks. Her voice is kind, but there’s a hard edge to it.

Becket looks into her eyes and only feels absolute respect and a healthy amount of panic because this woman could end his entire life before he could even lift his pinky finger.

He’s still kind of overwhelmed being in the mere presence of the woman who single-handedly keeps this company running so all he can do is stutter out, “Ah, no ma’am, sorry ma’am….”

“Well, if you happen to see either of them do you think you could send them to my office? I have some, ah, issues to discuss with the both of them. Especially Peter. I haven’t seen him around in a while.”

Becket doesn’t know who Peter is, but he fears for him.

* * *

Becket runs into Mr. Stark another _six_ times in the span of two weeks. Mr. Stark approaches him and has a conversation about his thesis on organometallic compounds. Becket, miraculously, does not pass out during any of these instances and actually manages to sound like the competent undergraduate researcher that he is.

(That doesn’t stop him from freaking out afterward, though.)

Sightings with Roomba-Kid are increasingly common as well. No one has managed to get his real name, but that’s not from lack of trying on their part. Apparently, Roomba-Kid learned of his nickname and took a liking to it. Becket knows a lot more about him, though—he’s sixteen, a sophomore, goes to Midtown Tech, likes chemistry, likes dorky science puns even more, and, amazingly, is the _personal intern_ of Mr. Stark.

Becket hadn’t known Mr. Stark even took personal interns.

Seeing Mr. Stark and Roomba-Kid together, though? It hasn’t happened since that fateful lunch break where Jess called Roomba-Kid Mr. Stark’s son and hasn’t let go of it since. He’s heard the stories, of course, but Mr. Stark is a busy man and Roomba-Kid does….well, whatever Roomba-Kid does in his free time is not something Becket really wants to know.

There’s a knock on the door.

“Nose goes,” Ryan says.

Becket’s not one for door duty so he’s the second person to put a finger on his nose. Jess is, like always, last. She grumbles and grabs the papers she’s working on but stands up from where she had been longing at her desk with grace and walks over to the entrance anyways.

Jess opens the door then promptly almost drops the papers she’s holding. “M-Mr. Stark! And, uh, Roomba—I mean, can I help you, sir?”

Becket’s head snaps up so fast he swears he gets whiplash. There’s a wheezing sound from John and Ryan coughs something that sounds suspiciously like a laugh into the palm of his hand. There, standing in the entrance door to inorganics, is _Actual Anthony Edward Stark_ and Roomba-Kid. Mr. Stark is smiling, hand on Roomba-Kid’s shoulders but Roomba-Kid absolutely does not look like he wants to be here at all which is a stark contrast from all the times Becket and co have caught him sneaking in and stealing equipment and chemicals.

The first thing out of Roomba-Kid’s mouth is, “Don’t do it.”

“Ignore him,” Mr. Stark says with all the exasperation one gathers from fathering a sixteen year old. “This is the inorganics lab, right? Kid, introduce yourself.”

Said kid had very obviously been attempting to sneak off when Mr. Stark grabs his arm and yanks him back into the room. Becket has no shame in admitting that he’s gaping. The entire lab is eerily silent. Even the actual employees watch with rapt attention.

Roomba-Kid bites his lip and crosses his arms. For a moment, Becket wonders if he’ll answer at all. Then, Roomba-Kid says, “Hi, I’m Peter Parker.”

“Oh, wow,” John says like Mr. Stark hadn’t just exposed Roomba-Kid’s secret identity to the entire inorganics department.

Becket thinks of that conversation with Ms. Pepper Potts not even a week ago and tries to hide his cringe. If Roomba-Kid survived Ms. Potts’ fury, he doubts there’s much else on the planet that can get rid of him at this point. Although, Becket finds that his stomach twists unpleasantly at the thought of Roomba-Kid leaving. It’s as Ryan said; he’s weirdly magnetic. 

“Babysit him,” Mr. Stark says. “I need to go do important superhero things and he likes you guys for some reason.”

“Don’t do it,” Roomba-Kid— _Peter_ repeats. Then he whirls around on his heel with a surprising amount of grace and says to Mr. Stark, “Let me come!”

“Absolutely not,” Mr. Stark tells Peter. He faces the horrible confused quadruplet of interns as if he isn’t essentially asking them to be an over-qualified babysitter to his son. “Peter is very slippery and very persuasive but I need you guys to keep him in this room until I come and get him.”

Jess still hasn’t taken her hand off the door handle. Ryan has his head in his hands, looking every bit as overwhelmed as Becket feels, and says, “What is even going on here?”

“Let me come, Mr. Stark!”

“You are going to stay here because I am your boss and I say so.”

“Fire me, then,” Peter says, like a challenge. Becket almost yells because he worked _so hard_ to get here and this kid is just goading to get fired. “Fire me right now.”

“No,” Mr. Stark says. “Suffer.”

Peter chooses to stick his tongue out, like a mature adult.

“Do not move. Do not come after me. I’m serious, Peter.”

“Hi serious, I’m dad.”

“I’m ignoring that,” Mr. Stark says. He turns back to the interns and gives them all a hard look. Becket’s sweating underneath his required white lab coat. “Keep. Him. Here.”

“Uh,” Jess says. “Yes, sir?”

Mr. Stark nods once and sends a look at Peter who rolls his eyes. He’s gone and out the door before another word can be uttered or before Peter can attempt to goad his way into being taken on a superhero business trip despite being a sixteen year old high school student.

 _Personal intern, my ass_ , Becket thinks.

Becket’s not quite sure what to make of Peter Parker but Peter Parker has no qualms of making everyone out as friends within the next ten minutes of being trapped and imprisoned in an SI lab. He’s also very forthcoming with information—in a grand total of five minutes Becket has learned that Mr. Stark is not, in fact, his dad, that he lives with his aunt, that his best friend is named Ned, that he’s slowly befriending a girl named MJ, and he keeps the roomba running because he thinks of it as both a joke and a challenge. Apparently, the entire disaster started because Mr. Stark thought he couldn’t program a roomba to follow him around considering how much he’s in and out of the SI halls. Peter was the one who went the extra mile and added music whenever Mr. Stark dropped something. Now, Mr. Stark is cursed to have a musical roomba follow him around the halls of SI for all entirety.

Ha. Take that, Mr. Stark. Never underestimate what teenagers will do out of spite. 

As it turns out, keeping Peter from leaving is, in fact, a very hard and very demanding job. Peter tries to sneak out no less than fifteen different times in the first twenty minutes of the lab and the only reason Becket even realizes he left is spot is due to the warning alarm Mr. Stark had personally installed to keep him there.

“Oh my god, are you actually Batman?” John asks and holds Peter under the armpits like a cat to keep him escaping for the umpteenth time. Peter’s feet dangle a couple inches off the ground and he laughs, like the joke is somehow ridiculously funny.

“Something like that,” Peter says then kicks his legs. “Put me down.”

“Bad kid,” Ryan drops him anyways. “I need a squirt bottle or something, man. I don’t want to get fired because you escaped the lab.”

“Mr. Stark won’t fire you,” Peter tells him. “He’s nice.”

“To you, maybe,” Jess says. “You get father-son privileges.”

Peter’s face turns the color of a cherry tomatoed but he says, like he has a lot of experience, “I already told you, Mr. Stark isn’t my dad.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m serious! I’ve only know him, like, two years—”

“That makes it even more suspicious! Where did he even find you? I thought—"

Becket takes this time to interrupt, sending an argument before it actually happens. He’d been meaning to ask, anyways, ever since that conversation with Ms. Potts from a week ago. “So, Peter, did you get in trouble with Ms. Potts?”

Peter looks at him like he’s grown another head. “Why would I get in trouble with Ms. Potts?”

“...Because last time I saw her she said she was looking for you and she, uh, she did look happy.”

“Oh! Don’t worry about that, Ms. Potts loves me,” Peter grins at him. “She was mad at Mr. Stark ‘cause Mr. Stark took me out of school last week for, uh, unplanned internship purposes.”

They chat and laugh and goof off for the next couple hours. Peter’s thwarted escaping attempts gradually die off as he becomes more comfortable around the group and he’s around and helping with as many chemical equations as can split his attention between. In the end, Mr. Stark comes and picks up his wayward intern long after the sun had set with a thank you and a promise of extra overtime in their next paychecks. Peter leaves without ever stealing a centrifuge or any assortment of chemicals so Becket counts that as a victory.

After all, it’s not every day you learn so much stuff about the elusive Roomba-Kid and his Iron Dad.

* * *

Peter Parker breaks Becket’s list of SI rules and creates new ones just as fast.

The most important rule comes right after he spots the two of them in hall. Peter carries a stack of papers that he seems to be trying, unsuccessfully, to Mr. Stark.

It’s a losing battle. The first rule and ( _previously_ , not that Becket knows it at the time) most important rule is that Mr. Stark will not be handed anything. Especially if that _anything_ consists of papers that are important to the future of Stark Industries. Becket can see the bold _Stark Industries_ letterhead from here.

“Take them,” Peter says. He follows Mr. Stark around on his heels, poking him every so often with the corner of the packet. Mr. Stark is steadfast in his resolve to ignore his wayward intern.

“Go put them in my lab,” Mr. Stark says.

“You won’t read them if I do that!” Peter says. Mr. Stark pauses, then shrugs as if the accusation isn’t completely baseless. “I’m going to tell Ms. Potts if you don’t take these.”

“Good luck, kid. She’s got years of experience trying and failing to hand me these things.”

Peter sighs, exasperated, but there’s a smile on his face. The papers are still clutched tightly in his hands. “Mr. Stark, hold them.”

“No.”

“Hold them.”

“No, kid.”

“I’m gonna drop them.”

“Peter—"

Peter drops them. The papers start to fall like in slow motion. Becket can only watch as they get closer and closer and closer to the floor.

 _They’re not even stapled_ , Becket thinks in a growing sort of terror. 

Mr. Stark catches them. “Kid, you are actually going to kill me. You see these grey hairs? That’s because of you, Peter. You’re giving me grey hairs.”

Peter laughs and gives him a smile that could outshine the sun. “Thanks, Mr. Stark!”

* * *

There are five rules Becket has learned since starting his internship. Number five is that Peter Parker (alias: Roomba-Kid) is an unstoppable force of nature that no one can squash and fears no god nor man on this earth.


	2. Chapter 2

“Peter!” Jess snaps. “Get your butt off the counter.”

Peter’s yet again in the Inorganics lab, his entire torso in a cabinet that’s a good five feet higher than the tallest countertop. His left arm cradles several different plastic containers of chemicals of various kinds. Apparently, Peter had decided that climbing the countertop to get to the chemical cabinet was a better idea than, say, asking a taller employee to help out. Becket’s pretty sure that violates at least three OSHA violations but he’s no snitch so he shrugs and goes back to work. 

Peter smiles at her but doesn’t get down from the countertop. “I’m just grabbing somethings.” 

At least now he has Mr. Stark’s explicit permission for his continued theft. They’ve gotten some pretty awesome upgrades from Mr. Stark, personally, replacing the things that have gone missing. The new self-spinning centrifuge is better than the hand-crank one any day.

“The last time you were grabbing chemicals,” Jess says, “You ended up making the biggest goddamn mess of my entire career.”

Peter snorts, then tries to hide it as a cough. “I didn’t—"

Jess cuts him off with an _ah, ah_ noise. “If you are going to say that you didn’t stick all those sticky notes to Mr. Stark’s lab then you’re talking to the wrong person, bub.”

Becket shares a look with John and Ryan from the other side of the lab and tries not to think about the many hours spent trying to get those awful sticky notes off every surface known to man. With his approachable appearance and general friendliness, it’s easy to forget that it had been _Peter_ that caused that absolute disaster of an afternoon.

“Oh,” Peter jumps down from the counter with a surprising amount of grace and puts his acquired chemicals on Becket’s desk. “No, I mean, I definitely stuck all of those stick notes to his lab. It took hours but, like, that was for science.”

“For science,” Ryan repeats.

“Yeah.”

“And this—these chemicals aren’t for science?”

Peter seems to realize he messed up because he freezes. “…Uh, no?”

“Then what are you even doing with them?” Jess grabs a bottle and reads it. “What could a twelve year old possibly need salicylic acid, toluene, and—is that beta hydroxy acid? What could you _possibly_ be making that you would need to mix these for?”

“I’m sixteen!” Peter huffs. “And it’s, uh, it’s classified.”

“Classified,” Becket repeats, miffed. It’s the first time Peter hasn’t openly give them a response to any of their prodding. He’d even told Becket he was going to stick unstickable sticky notes not five weeks ago.

“Very classified,” Peter says, a little more strongly, but his face is red. “So classified.”

“Is it going to blow up?”

“What—? No!”

“Is it for a prank?”

“ _No_!”

“Is it destructive in any way?”

“Not if I make it right the first time,” Peter says. He sees the look he’s getting and is quick to wave his hands. “Not dangerous! It’s just sticky. I promise I’m not using it for nefarious purposes and it won’t hurt people.”

“Alright, I guess,” Becket says and eyes the chemicals.

Peter notices and gathers them all up in his arms. His face is still more than a little flushed but he smiles all the same. “Sorry to bother. I’ll just take these and get out of your hair.”

He’s out of the lab before any of them can think to stop him. Becket watches him leave with a weird look on his face. 

“Anyone else get the feeling that the kid was lying?” he says.

“Lay off,” John tells him. “If he doesn’t want to tell us then he doesn’t have to.”

“Here’s to hoping he doesn’t blow himself up,” Ryan says.

“As if,” Jess says. “We’ve all seem his work here in the lab. The kid’s a genius.”

They never figure out what he was using it for but sometimes Becket catches Peter’s eye and, man, does he ever wonder.

* * *

Becket’s entire life-centric knowledge comes crashing down on a Tuesday afternoon when a villain looking for a fight crashes straight through Stark Industries.

It had been a normal morning, for the most part. The actual employees are in their weekly meeting with the head of the lab. Peter had been working with the four interns in the Inorganics lab, helping where he could. As it turns out, the kid is a genius at everything chemistry and engineering. Watching him work really leaves no wonder why Mr. Stark is so invested in this kid, son or not.

They were laughing, joking around. Trying to convince Peter to go to their respective colleges—Harvard, Princeton, or MIT? It’s ignited more than one heated debate in the past that had Peter laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.

(MIT’s absolutely the best. Becket’s not biased in his answer at _all_.) 

Then someone crashes straight through the thousands of windows of the entrance lounge. People scream, alarms blare, and chaos unfolds. The door to the Inorganic lab automatically shuts as a safety precaution, locking all five of them in there. Becket’s on his feet in seconds. But not quite fast enough, he thinks when he takes note of the defensive stance Peter has already adapted.

“What the hell—?” John says. “What’s going on?”

“It’s the alarm system,” Jess says. She grabs Peter’s arm and drags him over to the desk. The other three follow and take cover behind any object they could. “It means someone bad got into the building. We need to hide and wait until they tell us its safe.”

The look on Peter’s face tells Becket that he’s absolutely not happy with this situation. He keeps glancing at the door, then back at Jess’s hand on his arm like he wants to take off but doesn’t quite know how. He’s probably overwhelmed—Becket knows he definitely is in this situation—but running won’t do him any good when they’ve already got a perfectly good hiding spot in here.

They wait in silence for what seems like forever—minutes tick by in slow succession. The crashing sounds outside of the building gradually decrease but the alarms never once go silent. Then, all of a sudden, the building in plunged into darkness. The alarms stop. The halls fall into complete silence.

“Is it over?” Becket asks.

“No,” Jess says. “If it was safe, they would’ve said something. The power wouldn’t have just cut off like that.”

He knew, when he first took this position, that there had always been some risk. New York is a known hotspot for all things supervillain and working for _the_ Iron Man paints a big fat target on their building. It doesn’t help the jarring terror that makes its way through his system and the sudden realization that this is _actually_ happening. No longer is _Super Villain Attacks_ just some story he read about in the daily newspaper—he’s living it. And he definitely doesn’t like it.

“Well, this is awful,” Ryan says and fails to keep the tremble out of his voice.

“Wait,” Peter says, voice barely above a whisper. He’s staring intensely at the door, hands curled so tight into fists that his knuckles are white. “Do you guys hear that?”

At first, he doesn’t. Peter doesn’t take his eyes off the door, though, and his intensity doesn’t waiver either. Becket strains his ears for a couple seconds, not hearing anything but their own breathing, just as a sound catches his attention from outside the door.

Footsteps. His heart skips a beat. His stomach clenches in terror.

“Hide, hide, _hide_ ,” a voice says. It’s nasally, but strong. There’s a echoing laugh. “Gotta hide before the Iron Man finds me!”

Jess grips Becket’s hand and squeezes it. He pulls her closer, feeling both Ryan and John trying to push themselves as far away from the door as possible. Peter, though—Peter doesn’t back away. If anything, he crouches on the balls of his feet, eyes narrowed, and leans forward. It’s like he can hear something they can’t or, better yet, _knows_ something they don’t.

He’s never seen that look of absolute concentration on Peter’s face before. If there hadn’t been an actual supervillain loose in the SI R&D departments, Becket might have been a little intimidated.

The footsteps get louder and louder until they’re right outside the door. Someone bangs on the outside so loud that all four of the interns flinch. Peter still hasn’t moved from his crouched position, like he’s ready to spring to his feet in seconds.

“ _Peter_ ,” Jess hisses, quietly. “Peter, get over here.”

Peter glances back at her, once, then turns his attention back to the door. Jess looks like she’s about to yank him back again, but then the door makes a horrible grinding noise

Becket’s heart stops as a man steps through. Dressed in a trench coat, a fedora, and black shoes, the man looks almost like a traditional mobster. He might have even passed as a normal, albeit weirdly dressed, man if it hadn’t been for the strange black goo that dripped from his black eyes, shoulders and fingertips.

He steps further into the room and Becket can tell the exact second the man spots them—after all, it’s not like a chemistry lab has a lot of places to hide. The man smiles, teeth black, and more goo drips from his open mouth.

Becket’s heart stops.

“Hello, hello, hello,” the man says. His voice echoes. “What do we have here? Children?”

“Oh, fuck,” Ryan mutters.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” the man says. “I need a hiding place, you see. Iron Man is coming and I haven’t achieved my goal. I can’t afford any witnesses.”

John makes a choked sound. Peter is on his feet in an instant, looking ready to pounce. Before anyone can make a move otherwise, Jess jumps up, grabs an opened bottle off the desks they had been working on before this all went down, and promptly throws acid in his face.

The man howls, spitting. Black goo flies everywhere. It almost lands on Becket, but he finds himself being yanked away at the last second. When he looks up, Peter is standing above him. It’s like Becket’s looking at a completely different person. No longer is this the awkward, friendly, sixteen year old intern that likes to make science puns and prank the entire chemistry department. Now, Peter stands tall and proud. His face is set in a determined line. He meets Becket’s eyes and looks at his face, almost as if he’s searching for something.

 _Can I trust you?_ the look seems to say. 

Peter must find his answer—whatever it is—because he looks away and smiles at the villain. He snatches another bottle from the desk and throws it with deadly accuracy. It hits the man right in the eyes. “Hey, ugly!”

“Peter!” Ryan snaps, trying to bring the kid back behind the safety of the desks.

Peter dances around his arms and gives him a much more friendly smile. “Don’t worry! I got this. It’ll be okay.”

Becket almost believes it.

“Peter, you’re _sixteen_ ,” Ryan says right back.

The villain spits and roars, like an animal. Black goo comes pouring out of his mouth and eyes and an assortment of acid drips down his face. His solid black gaze locks on with Peter’s and he hisses out, “ _You.”_

“Hi,” Peter says, cheerfully despite the situation. The man looks like he’s about to respond, but the liquid from the bottles drip into his mouth and he chokes. “Oh, sorry. Acid got your tongue?”

The man roars, again, and charges. Peter flips a desk on its side like it weighs nothing and sends it into the man’s knees in one smooth action. He wastes no time running forward and launching over the desk, careful to avoid the black goo, and kicks the man so hard he goes flying back into the door.

Becket’s sure his jaw is on the ground. From the frantic look his fellow interns are sending him, he’s not the only one surprised at this new development.

“Holy shit,” John says.

“Here, let me help you,” Peter says and flips the desk so it lands on the man’s back. The man grunts and groans before yelling. The goo explodes outward, the desk splinters, and Peter is pushed back so violently that he skids all the way back to where Becket, Jess, Ryan and John are cowering behind the ruined, goo-covered desk.

“Hey, watch it, venom-imposter!” Peter says, already having recovered. “This is my favorite shirt!”

“Child, child, child,” the man says. Black liquid drips down his fingers. “This would be significantly less painful if you were to stop resisting.”

“The goo thing and the death threats are getting kinda old, y’know?”

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” the man says. He takes a dangerous step forward. Becket does _not_ like the way his eyes seem to glow in the eerily darkness of the chemistry lab. “Allow me to make it better.”

The man flings his hand forward. Goo comes off and solidifies into spikes. Becket takes cover behind the desk, almost missing the skillful way that Peter dodges every single spike. They imbed themselves in the wall behind them.

Peter glances once at the black goo on the man’s fingers and once at the solid black spikes in the wall behind him.

“Huh,” is all Peter says. Then he launches himself at the villain, tackling him to the ground. The villain grabs his shirt, yanking, but Peter flips them both over and kicks out. The man grunts, taking a hit to the stomach and another to the shoulder. “Serious, dude, do you even have a badge? If you don’t, I can talk to Happy about getting you a visitors pass since you _really_ wanted to visit— _whoa!”_

The villain manages to get a grip and sends Peter flying into a pair of desks. Peter yelps, but pushes himself out of the way right as the villain jumps at him. He manages to avoid a nasty hit to the head and skitters just out of reach. He rubs his wrists almost unconsciously and mutters, just loud enough for Becket to hear, “Of _all_ the days not to be wearing my webshooters…”

And Becket? Becket doesn’t quite know how to feel about that.

The man stalks forward, shoulders hunched. “You know, you know, you know…It is not wise to make a dangerous man look foolish, boy.”

“You don’t need my help for that,” Peter says. “Have you looked in a mirror lately, by chance?”

The man spits. Both of them clash again. Becket sees the black goo from the villain and Peter’s once-white shirt as they trade blows and attacks like this is just another Tuesday afternoon.

“Can someone,” John whispers from beside him. “Can _someone please_ tell me what’s going on.”

Ryan laughs, but it sounds wet. “Bold of you to assume any of us know what’s going on.”

“Apparently, Peter has more than a few hidden skills,” Jess says, which is just about the understatement of the century.

“Do you think I’m _stupid?”_ the man roars.

Becket turns around in just enough time to see the man fling more hardened goo at Peter. It covers almost the entire area—too thick for Peter to dodge. A yell catches in his throat and he stands, unsure of what to do but unwilling for this kid—this kid who’s been protecting them to get hurt—when Peter jumps.

The hardened goo hits the further wall with a _bang_! Peter doesn’t come back down.

“Breaking into Stark Industries in broad daylight, trying to hide from Iron Man, attacking us,” Peter’s voice says. Becket looks up. “Also have you seen your outfit? Seriously, dude, it’s not the 60s anymore.”

Peter stares down at them. His fingers stick to the surface and he crawls along the ceiling, just like a…just like a spider.

 _Spider-Man_.

It makes total sense while also making absolutely no sense at all.

“Holy _shit,”_ Jess whispers.

“What, what—?” the man doesn’t even get to the third _what_ when Peter drops from the ceiling and lands on the man’s back. He pulls them both to the ground and the man’s head makes a solid _crack_ on the hard floor of the lab. Peter grabs both of his arms and pins them behind the man’s head.

They wait with baited breath for one second, two, three, but the man doesn’t get back up. He doesn’t even stir. Becket lets out a sigh of relief he hadn’t known he was holding in.

“Is he…?” John asks.

Peter stands on two feet. Becket can’t help but look at him in a whole different light—it’s hard to believe that the kid spending most of his free time running around SI and making roombas is the crime-fighting vigilante dressed in a spider-costume and beating up baddies.

Becket even has a picture hanging up in his bedroom. He feels faint, almost.

“He’ll be okay,” Peter says. “Nasty headache, though.”

“Alright, okay. Cool,” John says. “So, uh, what the fuck?”

They find themselves crowding around him. Jess says, “You’re _Spider-Man_?”

Peter’s face is cherry-red and he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly but nods all the same. “Yeah. I’m Spider-Man.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god,” Jess says. “Spider-Man is a twelve year old who spends his time tormenting Tony Stark and blowing up labs.”

It’s not exactly inaccurate.

“I’m _sixteen_ ,” he protests. “And I’ve never blown up a lab!”

“Purposely, maybe,” Ryan says but there’s a smile on his face.

Peter relaxes just the barest amount. Then tenses up again like an unbidding thought came to mind. “You’re not gonna—you’re not gonna tell anyone, right? ‘Cause, uh, I have a lot of enemies and I—"

It’s then that he realizes just how much is on the line in Peter’s life. Becket always thought of Spider-Man as this otherworldly figure—untouchable, eternal. Up there in terms of Tony Stark and the Avengers. Knowing that Spider-Man is a real person, a kid nonetheless with a family and friends…He’s unwillingly trusting the four of them with more than just his own life. All because he had to choose between saving their life or keeping his secret.

Peter must be terrified.

“Relax, kid,” Becket says. Jess, Ryan, and John give him pats on the back or encouraging smiles. “Your secret is safe with us.”

Peter meets his eyes. The tension melts out of him like a popped balloon. Out loud, he simply says, “Thank you.”

“Well,” a new voice says from the door. “This is rather unexpected.”

Becket turns, half expecting more villain accomplices but is entirely welcoming of Tony Stark striding through the doorway.

He doesn’t have his suit on, but he takes in the carnage of the room with a critical eye. Ruined desks, spilled chemicals, and black goo are scattered throughout the room. The unconscious body of the villain who attacked them lies in the far corner, as far away from the rest of them as possible.

Peter waves. “Hi, Mr. Stark.”

Mr. Stark gives them all a once over, like he’s checking for injuries, before he pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “You couldn’t have waited?”

“Sorry," Peter says and doesn't sound a single bit sorry about it. "But to be fair, he attacked first."

“Peter—”

“Also, his goo? Disgusting,” Peter plows on like he hadn’t heard. “I’m almost glad I didn’t have the suit, Mr. Stark, because I’d be picking this stuff out for _weeks—”_

“ _Peter,”_ Mr. Stark says, more forceful. “Are you hurt?”

“Oh. No, uh, I’m good,” Peter says. He glances down at his body, checks his limbs, and then shrugs. He looks back over at the interns. “Is everyone else okay too?”

“We’re good,” Ryan says.

“Thanks to you,” John adds.

“It’s what I do,” Peter awkwardly rubs the back of his neck. Nervous habit, Becket notes.

Mr. Stark sizes them all up, eyes guarded. Despite being rather small for a man, Tony Stark is nonetheless an intimidating presence to behold.

Mr. Stark places a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “I take it that this will not be leaked?”

Becker blames it on the adrenaline when Ryan blurts out, “Bro, no one would actually believe us if we said that Spider-Man was a sixteen year old who spends his free time causing chaos and making roombas anyways.”

Ryan immediately slaps a hand over his mouth, cheeks turning red. Becket sighs, Jess laughs. John looks so completely lost that he isn’t quite sure how he should react. There’s just the barest hint of a smile on Mr. Stark’s face. Peter has the decency to hide his snort behind his hand.

“You’ll be signing NDAs anyways,” Mr. Stark says but there’s something of a smile on his face.

Jess nods and says, “Of course, Mr. Stark, sir.”

“And,” Mr. Stark continues, “If you ever wanted to come back here for another summer, the program would be lucky to have you. If you wanted something more permeant…I think we could arrange that as well.”

Well. Becket knows a bribe when he sees one. The funny part? He doesn’t care. He’ll absolutely take a job at SI anyway for keeping a secret he’s already planning on keeping. One look at the other interns tells him they’re all thinking along the same lines.

“Can we ask questions?” John asks. When Peter and Mr. Stark nod, he goes on, “So, your internship?”

“It’s not actually an internship,” Peter says and smiles. “Spider-Man _is_ the internship. Mr. Stark is kinda my sponsor?”

“You basically live in my house on the weekends,” Mr. Stark says. “That’s a mentor, kid,”

“Dad, sometimes,” Peter tells them. Jess sends them all a vindictive look. “But mostly if I’m here, I just mess with my suit or the Iron Man suits. Then I started coming down and hanging out with you guys ‘cause you were always fun.”

“You’ve touched the Iron Man suit,” Ryan says with reverence.

“I’m still working on getting Mr. Stark to let me take it for a test flight,” Peter tells them brightly. “I’ll get him eventually.”

“You actually won’t,” Mr. Stark says.

They laugh and talk and question for the next few hours. The sun has long since set, the police have gathered their statement. They leave with the promise of a better future and more information tomorrow morning. Peter and Mr. Stark are right there, making sure they get home safely.

Throughout it all, Peter never once apologizes for not telling them—Becket thinks, had this whole thing never happened, Peter never _would_ have told them. Becket would have graduated his SI internship, gone home, got his degree, created his life, and never once known that he spent a summer getting to know the Spider-Man of New York City.

It’s a humbling thought.

Tomorrow, he’ll go back to the labs. He’ll help with cleanup. He’ll pass Peter in the hallways and say hello. He’ll continue his research. The singing roomba will still follow Mr. Stark around. Peter will probably end up stealing more chemicals. Jess will gossip at lunch. Ryan will joke around. John will act as the voice of reason.

Becket will go home that night thinking about his entire world has changed, yet it seems almost nothing has changed at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bam! done! ok! 
> 
> as always [my tumblr](http://blu-eh.tumblr.com)!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Menace of SI](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25171711) by [Alicia_Borealis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alicia_Borealis/pseuds/Alicia_Borealis)
  * [flash thompson gets an internship.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29043093) by [turtle_bean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/turtle_bean/pseuds/turtle_bean)
  * [Coincidences and Superheroes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28951650) by [patrochilles_trash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/patrochilles_trash/pseuds/patrochilles_trash)




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